


Unspoken Five Times; Spoken Once

by indigorose50



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Charity is Fine I promise, Fluff, M/M, Minor Violence, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 11:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15639525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigorose50/pseuds/indigorose50
Summary: Five times people thought Philip and P.T. were together.(And the one time...)





	1. 5 Times

**Author's Note:**

> Been wanting to write this for a while. Hope you enjoy! It's my first time writing for this fandom.
> 
> As always- if you spot any errors, please tell me!

1.

The bar was crowded. Men done with a long day’s work were grouped all over the room; drinking, talking, drinking, laughing, drinking, smoking, and drinking. P.T. Barnum and Phillip Carlyle had come to talk up the new acts the circus would be presenting in a few weeks.

“The most effective advertising is word of mouth,” Phillip had said when Barnum asked him to make new posters. “Care for a drink?”

And now they were moving from group to group, casually bring up the circus and all its wonders. It was turning into a rather fun evening. Bantering with Barnum was easy; the exhausted working men hung on their every word and laughed at every joke. The way Barnum himself worked the room was hypnotizing. Sometimes Phillip would stay silent and just watch him speak with a group. The older man’s smile was mischievous, encouraging eavesdroppers, as he relayed the goings on in the circus. Barnum’s eyes sparkled with passion when he spoke and Phillip smiled into his glass at the sight.

Eventually Phillip excused himself to get them more drinks. As he waited at the bar, a stranger beside him spoke. “Brave of ye to show up together, lad.”

Phillip turned to the stranger. It was a man nearing his 60s with a bearded face and an accent Phillip couldn’t quite place. “Brave?”

“Aye. I admire yer backbone. Not many would strut around in public the way you two are.”

“Two? Who two?”

The stranger jerked his head. Phillip followed his indication and found Barnum. The stranger grinned and lifted his glass. “Bless the both of ye.”

The implication hit Phillip like an elephant. “I— You think— No! We’re just friends! Business partners!” He looked back up at Barnum, as if he could back Phillip up from the other side of the room. Barnum locked eyes with Phillip and sent him a conspiratorial wink.

Usually Barnum’s winks reassured Phillip. They meant he had the situation well in hand or was about to get the crowd back on his side. This time, it made Phillip’s face heat up.

Beside him, the stranger let out a laugh. “Ye don’t need to pretend with me, lad. Truth be told, I’m in the same boat.” He _also_ winked at Phillip. This was beginning to get overwhelming. Phillip wanted to explain that he and Barnum weren’t like _that_ , it was all business between them, they were just good friends, there was no reason to suggest—

The drinks came before Phillip could eek out a word. He grabbed them and hurried back to Barnum’s side. “Ah, I was just talking about you!” Barnum said, taking his glass and looping an arm around Phillip’s shoulders. “Tell them about your _genius_ flaming hoops suggestion.”

At the familiar contact, Phillip relaxed and began to talk about the various animals they had trained.

* * *

 

2.

Phineas checked his pocket watch. It wasn’t like Carlyle to be late. Had something happened to him? Was there a problem at the circus? The memory of the fire was still fresh in Phineas’ head. He almost wanted to bolt from the restaurant and check on things but if nothing was wrong, he would just look silly. And he would have given his table away.

It had been just over a month since they had gotten the circus back up and running. He and Carlyle had agreed they both deserved a nice night out alone to celebrate their success. The restaurant wasn’t the most upscale place in New York but there were clean tables, polite waiters, and food that wasn’t peanuts. Phineas tried to make himself relax, leaning back in his seat and twiddling his thumbs. That didn’t stop him from whipping his head around every time the door opened.

“I’m sure she’ll be here any minute, sir.” Phineas jumped at the voice and looked up to see a waitress standing next to him. She smiled kindly at him. “She’d be crazy to stand you up, sir, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Phineas cleared his throat. “Actually, I’m waiting for a man.” She raised both eyebrows and he went on quickly, “A business partner! My business partner. He’s just running a little late.”

The waitress shrugged. “Whatever you people are calling it these days is fine by me. Just don’t be too obvious about it. This establishment has a reputation to uphold.”

His jaw dropped, cheeks turning red. “Miss, I swear, we are simple two platonic men going for a good meal.”

She hummed. “Is that why you dressed up so nice?”

Phineas looked down at himself. For the first time, he noticed how spic and span he looked. Pressed shirt, clean trousers (rare for his line of work), combed hair. Had he really made himself look nice just for Carlyle?

The door to the restaurant flew open. Phineas and the waitress both looked up. Carlyle stood in the entrance, eyes surveying the room. Phineas grinned and waved to him. The waitress giggled. “Sorry sir, but you look _completely_ besotted.”

As Carlyle made his way over, Phineas said in a defeated tone. “Just get us some waters, okay?”

* * *

 

3.

The open air market in Central Park was a great change of pace from the smoky stalls of the rest of the city. Foods from around the world, little treasures, new fashions— it was always an adventure. Phillip took a deep breath of fresh spring air. Ever since the fire he had come to appreciate a lung full of clear air. Living in the city among animals had not been great for his recovery. Today he and P.T. were on a spending splurge. The circus was doing well, the tent kept them rent free, and they had a little extra money lying around. Today was about gathering exciting new things for the show and seeing if any booth workers would fit among their cast.

A secondary desire was to find interesting oddities for themselves.

“Phillip, look! It’s a new kind of spinning top!” P.T. called, waving him over to a booth. Phillip had to chuckle. Sometimes the other man was just a big kid, all smiles about the hottest new trend. As they pored over the wares on the table, two female voices close by floated to Phillip’s ear.

“Is that Barnum?”

“ _The_ P.T. Barnum?”

“Oh, he’s even handsomer up close!”

“Now now, girls, don’t start falling for him,” interrupted a third sterner voice. “Remember what he does for a living. All those animals; I bet he smells to high heaven. And don’t get me started on his manners.”

Having grown up among aristocrats, Phillip had long ago mastered the art of observing someone without openly staring at them. He turned his head ever so slightly and caught sight of the three women. They were across the way, talking behind gloved hands but not taking care to keep their voices down. Phillip almost couldn’t hear them over the sounds of the market. He prayed P.T. couldn’t hear them at all.

“You’re probably right,” said the first woman. “He surrounds himself with those freaks. I fear they may have rubbed off on him.”

The second woman nodded wisely. “A shame that someone as good looking as him keeps company with people like that.”

“And look there— it’s the younger Carlyle,” said the stern voice. Phillip tried not to tense, afraid he’d give himself away. “Surely you have heard the rumors about those two. Disgraceful. Their ‘show’ will _not_ be getting any more of my money.”

The accusation made Phillip shift away from PT on reflex. The rumors were _not_ true, thank you very much. After a moment, he realized what he had done. He was letting those women win. He was letting them have control over him that they did not deserve. So what if he and P.T. _were_ like… that? What business was that of theirs? Phillip had stopped letting others have sway over him when he shook P.T.’s hand in that bar over 10%.

Shifting back over, Phillip took P.T.’s hand gently. There were two gasps behind him and one scoff of disgust. P.T., for his part, didn’t say anything. In fact, he laced their fingers together and held up the spinning top for him to examine. When Phillip checked behind them a few moments later, it was to see three sets of scornful eyes boring into him. He smirked to himself and made a show of leaning against P.T. as he spoke with the curator of the stand.

They went through the rest of the market like that, holding hands and browsing the merchandise. It was strangely freeing to do something so openly looked down upon. But wasn’t that part of their lifestyle? Passersby sent them either odd looks or outright glares. A few people grinned and Phillip made sure to respond in kind.

P.T. didn’t say a word about the hand holding. He even started squeezing Phillip’s hand to get his attention at a booth rather than saying his name. Some venders were stone-faced at their approach, but P.T. could charm eggs from a bird’s nest and soon they loosened up. Phillip found he enjoyed the market a bit more like this. Being able to share his personal bubble with P.T. was comforting.

They left the market around midday. Phillip reluctantly let go of P.T. when they stopped at a pretzel stand for lunch. He felt a little less brave now that they were back in New York City proper. As an experiment, he shifted his pretzel to one hand and left the other hand between them free. Almost immediately, P.T. took his hand again, as if it were natural. Under the judgmental eye of the whole city, they walked back to the tent.

* * *

 

4.

It had been a long rehearsal day for everyone. The new trapeze pair got along with everyone fine but it was difficult for them to get the act to look as natural as the Wheelers had. Practice went well passed sundown.

Phineas finally stood up. “Alright, I think that’s as good as we’re going to do tonight. Great job, everyone. Go get some diner. We’ll start early tomorrow.”

Tired cheers greeted that declaration and the troupe disbanded. Some went off to find food, others talked about going straight to a bar, still others yawned and said bed was more appealing.

The night was far from over for Phineas and Phillip. There was some paper work to fill out from the bank, design ideas to go over, and other business end things they generally kept between them. Stiff legged and hoarse, they dragged themselves to the nearest couch and sat down to work. They sat rather close together lately, scrutinizing the bank papers together and marking up the same notebook. Phineas didn’t mind at all if their knees bumped together or if they both reached for the pen at the same time.

Over an hour later, Phineas became aware of the increasing pressure on his shoulder. Phillip had fallen asleep against him. The pen slipped from the young man’s fingers and fell to the floor of the tent. With a chuckle, Phineas leaned back against the couch, shifting Phillip into a position that would be kinder on his neck. For the sake of comfort, Phineas told himself, he slipped an arm around Phillip’s shoulders to hold him closer to his side. A fond smile lit Phineas’ face as he looked down as Phillip.

“Well aren’t you two precious.”

Phineas whipped his head around. Lettie was walking over to them, a slyness to her smile. She sat on the arm of the couch on Phineas’ other side. He snorted. “What are you talking about?”

Lettie’s grin only grew. “You two, of course. Just the cutest.”

“We are _not_ cute.”

“So you haven’t told him how you feel?”

Phineas’ eyes widened. “Told him _what_?”

“Guess not.”

“There’s nothing to tell!” He whispered harshly at her. “We’re friends. That’s all.”

She let out a snort. “Please. You’re very _close_ friends who are both unattached. Stop kidding yourself.”

“We’re not unattached,” Phineas defended, refusing to address her first point.

Lettie’s face finally fell. “Phil and Anna ended things before she and her brother moved to Boston. And Charity _left_ , Phineas.”

“We still write letters. We’re still friendly. There’s still a chance…” He trailed off at the expression Lettie gave him. It was a mix of pity and sorrow. He sighed, absently reaching up to run his fingers through Phillip’s hair. “Anyway, all that doesn’t mean anything is… _happening_ here.”

Lettie tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. Her eyes darted pointedly between Phillip, who was nestled into Phineas’ side, and Phineas himself, perfectly at ease with this set up. “Mhm.”

Phineas narrowed his eyes are her. “You are far too accepting.”

The smile was back. “Isn’t that our whole thing?” With a giggle, she kissed the top of his head. “Make sure you get some rest yourself.”

She left them in the soft lantern light, the papers lying forgotten on the squat table. Phineas stared after her before lowering his eyes to the sleeping Phillip. His mind, always at work, began firing off possible scenarios. He mentally shook those away. Now was not the time.

* * *

 

5.

Phillip ran through the dark streets of New York. He should have known better than to listen to the letter from his “mother” wanting to patch things up between them. Instead he had walked right into a trap. Two goons he could have dealt with. Three was pushing it but still doable.

Five was overkill.

If he could just make it back to the circus tent, Phillip would be safe. Everyone at the show would gladly have his back. He could hear panting behind him and he pushed himself to run faster.

The lights of the tent were just visible when someone slammed him in the side. Phillip hit the building beside him, brick digging into his cheek.

“Look,” Phillip said, turning to the men surrounding him. “Whatever my father is paying you, I’ll pay _double_ if you let me go.” He nearly yelled all this. Maybe if he was loud enough, someone from the tent would hear him.

One man in a beat up bowler hat stepped forward. “Sorry, Carlyle. But getting paid to kick your ass outweighs any amount you could give us. Your kind _disgusts_ me.” He spat at Phillip’s feet. “You and your boyfriend parading around. It ain’t right. You need to be put in your place.”

“He’s not—” A punch to the gut shut Phillip up. He gasped and fell to his knees. Someone grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head up. Bowler Hat was in his face, rank breath puffing too close to Phillip who was trying to suck air back into his lungs.

There was a glint of steel and the board side of a knife was pressed against Phillip’s cheek. Bowler Hat grinned, several teeth missing. “Let’s see if he’s still with ya after we cut up that pretty face of yours.”

The knife turned suddenly and dug a shallow line into the apple of Phillip’s cheek. He let a scream. The show was supposed to start soon; _someone_ must be out looking for Phillip. They could hear him.

The knife was pulled away and there were laughs from the men around him. “Didn’t like that, did ya?” Suddenly the knife was positioned just under Phillip’s left eye. Panic gripped Phillip for the first time and he shut his eyes. “You’ll like _this_ even less.”

Phillip braced himself, not daring to move too sharply with the knife so close. But no pain came. Instead, there was a grunt and the sound of something heavy toppling into trash cans. Phillip opened his eyes. Red flooded his vision. A familiar red coat stood before him. Gripping the wall with one hand, Phillip got to his feet.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Phineas said calmly, taking off his hat and bowing to the four men still standing. “Sorry to interrupt but Mr. Carlyle and I have a show to host.”

“It’s you,” cried one man, raising his fists. “The _boyfriend_.”

Phineas raised an eyebrow. “If that’s what this is about I assure you we have so such relation—” He didn’t get to finish his statement. The man rushed at him, aiming for his head. Phineas step sided this smoothly. Phillip used the man’s momentum against him, taking him by the shoulders and throwing him into the wall Phillip had been leaning against. Phillip ran to Phineas, covering his blind spot as the other men attacked.

“Surely we can fix this without violence,” Phineas was saying as he elbowed one man in the stomach. “How about we give you tickets to the show tonight? At a discount!” He spun out of the way of another man and Phillip knocked him in the head. “Alright, _free_ tickets!”

“Do you _ever_ shut up?!” One man yelled.

Phillip snorted. “Not in the time I’ve known him.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing!” Phineas said with a laugh.

“Not at all! I like my men loud.”

This comment, combined with Phillip’s wink at Phineas, seemed to agitate their attackers more. Though Phineas and Phillip were still out-numbered, Phineas had brought his walking stick and was able to incapacitate a few grunts by knocking their knees.

Eventually, Phineas and Phillip won the day. Three men lay unconscious at their feet. The others had hobbled away.

Phillip was not without injury. Blood trickled from the cut on this cheek. His eye felt tender and the knuckles on his right hand were sore from punching with a closed fist. Phineas looked better than him but was favoring one leg. The older man stooped to pick up his hat, dusting it off before placing it on his head.

“Are you alright?” he asked, turning to Phillip.

“Better than ever,” Phillip said.

Phineas leaned on his walking stick as he moved forward to inspect Phillip. “You need patching up.” He raised a hand on rub his thumb under the cut on Phillip’s cheek. In the dim lamp light from the building beside them, Phillip saw him frown with worry.

“I’m fine,” Phillip assured him. “Let’s get back to the tent. The others are probably looking for us.”

 


	2. 1 Time

6.

Sunlight poured in through the tall windows of Phineas’ sitting room. Now that Charity and the girls had moved out, the house seemed impossibly large. Phineas was glad to have Phil over. The young man visited often these days. Perhaps he knew how empty the house felt now.

Currently, Phillip was standing on a stool before a large mirror. Phineas circled Phillip, pincushion on one hand, scrutinizing the too-small jacket Phillip wore and folding various bits. Phil had put on some muscle since he started working at the circus. It had not gone beyond Phineas’ notice but he tried not to let his mind wander at work.

Now he was free to let not only his mind wander, but his hands. His fingers trailed over Phil’s upper arm, running his thumb along the seam of the sleeve.

“What do you think?” Phil asked. Most likely he was talking about the garment but Phineas was really only thinking one thing at that point.

“Move in with me.”

The room went quiet. Phineas wasn’t even sure he was breathing. Like most of his ideas, it came out as a confident demand rather than a proposition. At the moment, he felt anything _but_ confident. 

He looked up at Phil. The man was staring down at him, eyebrows in his hair, mouth slightly parted. “What?”

“We both live alone,” Phineas explained, trying not to overthink his words. “It’s silly for you to keep paying rent when we spend most of our time together.”

“People talk enough, Phineas. We don’t need to add fuel to the fire.”

Phineas trailed his hand down until it twined with Phil’s, as it so often did these days. As it was so easy to do these days. “What if I don’t want the people to be wrong?”

He could see Phil’s Adam’s apple work as he gulped. “What are you saying?”

“I-I’m saying,” Phineas licked his lips and willed his voice to come out stronger than he felt, “that they might be on to something.”

If Phil’s eyes had looked big before, they were in danger of dropping out of his head now. Terror would have gripped Phineas but Phil had yet to let go of his hand so that had to mean something.

“You mean,” Phil swallowed again. “You mean you think you might… have feelings for me.”

“There’s no ‘might’. I’ve thought about this a lot, Phil. About you.” He willed himself not to blush. He probably wasn’t successful. Phil breathed in sharply. With a touch of glee, Phineas noticed his cheeks were pink. “I haven’t felt like this since…” He trailed off. The name went unspoken between them. “If that makes you uncomfortable then I apologize. I just… needed to say it.”

Phil stepped off the stool and looked Phineas in the eye. “And you’re not just pulling my leg.” He sounded _hopeful_. Phineas’ heart beat double time in his chest.

“No.”

“Good. Because.” He took a deep breath. “Because— me too.”

Phineas was definitely blushing now. “You too?”

“Yeah. I have feelings for you too.”

Eloquently, Phineas opened and closed his mouth a few times. Ever since Lettie had put this idea in his head, he had imagined all sorts of scenarios for the outcome. This one had only occurred to him in the middle of the night, when rational thought had taken flight in favor of fancy before he drifted off to sleep.

“What kind of feelings?” Phineas asked finally, a teasing grin making its way onto his face.

Phil rolled his eyes. “Please don’t make me say it.”

“I think there’s a lot we haven’t been saying to each other for a while now.” Phineas chuckled as Phil’s face turned even redder. Acting on impulse, as he so often did, Phineas pecked Phil on the cheek. Phil jumped and Phineas had to hold in another laugh.

After taking a second to collect himself, Phil’s face turned serious. “Are you sure you wanna do this?” He squeezed Phineas’ hand for emphasis. “You remember those thugs my father sent after us. If you were mixed up with me, you’d be the talk of the town.”

Phineas’ eyes flashed at the line. “I wasn’t born this morning,” Phineas said, relishing the smile he got in return. “Besides, it’s not like it will be _new_ gossip. Just _correct_ gossip.”

With a proper laugh that sounded almost like relief, Phil let go of Phineas’ hand. He slipped off the small jacket Phineas had honestly forgotten about. “We should go out to celebrate then. Say the things we haven’t been saying,” Phil suggested, pulling on another jacket before Phineas could ogle his arms for long. “Who’s the gentleman in this situation?”

“That depends,” Phineas said, cleaning up the pins. “What does the gentleman do?”

“Pays the bill.”

“Ah. Well then,” Phineas dipped into a dramatic curtsey and held out his hand, palm down. “Good sir, will you do me the honor of taking me to the nearest eatery?”

Without missing a beat, Phil took the offered hand and kissed the back of it. “The honor will be all mine! And may I just say you look stunning this afternoon.” Phineas lifted his head, heat back in his cheeks at the contact. Phil was giving him an intense look. “In fact, you look stunning every afternoon. And every evening.”

Phineas stared as Phil pressed another lingering kiss to his hand. Then the younger man laced their fingers together and started tugging Phineas towards the door. “Come on. I know a bar where an old man might like our story. We can move my things tomorrow.”

Feeling light, giddy, and loved, Phineas let himself be lead away. Outside the air seemed clearer, the sun brighter— and his company was handsome and smirking at him. Later there would probably be money exchanged among their cast at the circus and maybe the newspaper that loved to hate them would print not-so-outrageous articles.

But for now, Phineas and Phil had a date to attend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was fun to write. Let me know what you think!


End file.
